A Kiss On The Hand
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Set somewhere in s3, Shelagh is still somewhat inexperienced with displays of affection and poses her questions to her husband. For Rahleeyah, who dragged me back into this show and inspired me to write a thing.


**A Kiss On The Hand**

"Patrick?"

"Mmm?"

Shelagh turned toward him beside her in bed. He was smoking and reading a medical journal. Shelagh herself had read it earlier in the day before Timothy had come home from school. "The study was inconclusive," she told him, glancing over to see which article he had open.

"It's what?" he asked, putting it down to turn his full attention to her.

"I'm only telling you so you know that I'm not interrupting anything vital," she explained.

A small smile appeared on his lips. He put the journal aside and reached over to hold her hand. "Then why are you interrupting me?" he asked teasingly.

Shelagh bit her lip, unsure how to broach the subject that had been weighing on her mind. "Well, I had a question for you. About...displays of affection."

Patrick smirked then, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray beside him and then taking her hand in both of his and raising it to his lips. "Displays of affection?" he asked her, kissing the tip of each of her fingers.

"Yes. This display of affection, actually. The...the way you kiss my hand."

He turned her hand over in his and pressed his lips to her palm. She whimpered slightly. "Is there anything wrong with the way I kiss your hand?" he murmured against her skin.

Her voice had turned breathy then, as arousal bubbled up in her belly and warmed her inside and out. "I just...wondered...why you seem to kiss my hand. And...and not my lips. As a display of...affection." The way Patrick's lips and tongue were exploring her hand and the inside of her wrist were extremely distracting to her train of thought.

But at her words, Patrick stopped his ministrations. "Would you rather I didn't kiss your hand like that? Or...would you prefer I kiss your lips? I think you know I do very much enjoy kissing your lips."

"Patrick, I don't want you to do anything with me that you don't want to, it's only that I was curious as to why you do things this way. I know I'm very inexperienced in such things, of course, but I'm not naive. I've seen films. I've seen the nurses with their boyfriends. And it seems to me different than the way you show me your love." She grasped his hands tightly, making sure he understood. "And I do know that you love me. And I do enjoy it. I'm just..."

"Curious," he finished for her.

She sighed in relief that he understood. "Yes."

Patrick reached up and caressed her cheek. "You are brilliant, Shelagh. And you have always been very curious. That's what made you a wonderful nurse and midwife and what makes you such a fascinating and wonderful woman. And we have always seemed to communicate so innately, I think I forget sometimes that you don't always implicitly understand everything about me."

"I hope that makes me a good wife that you feel that way."

"You are the most incredible wife, Shelagh. I love you so very much."

"And I love you," she assured him.

"But in answer to your question, about why I kiss your hand, it's really rather simple. It's relatively chaste and appropriate, which means I can do it in public and in Timothy's company and no one can bat an eye."

"If you ever do what you just did in public, I should have to use that hand to slap you away!"

They both laughed at that. "No," he assured her, "I wouldn't kiss your hand in that way in front of anyone else. But that's also why I feel particularly drawn to kiss your hand."

"Oh?"

Patrick took her hand in both of his and traced her palm gently and then leaned in to kiss it ever so softly. "The first time I ever touched you, Shelagh, was when I first kissed your hand like this."

Her breath caught in her throat at the memory, at the unbearable intimacy of it, at the overwhelming feeling of arousal and affection and shame she had felt when he'd kissed her like that for the first time. "Oh Patrick," she breathed.

He looked up into your eyes. "You have always been so very precious to me, Shelagh. And always will be. I only want to treat you with the delicate care and boundless love I feel for you."

A little sparkle appeared in her eyes at that. "You needn't always be so delicate with me, Patrick. I think you know that I'm made of tougher stuff than glass. I won't break."

A curious smile came to his lips. "Would you like me to be less delicate?"

"If the mood strikes you," she teased.

"I think perhaps it has," he growled.

In an instant, he was on her. He rolled her onto her back and pinned her arms up beside her head on the pillow.

"Alright?" he whispered. His lips where poised a hair's breadth from hers but not touching. She shivered to feel him so near.

"My glasses," she warned.

He assisted in removing her glasses and placing them on her nightstand.

"Patrick?"

"Yes?"

"Would you kiss me now, please?"

"Not delicately?"

"I think not."

And then his lips crashed into hers, moving passionately with teeth and tongue and moans of pleasure as they took feverish delight in each other. Shelagh arched her body against his. Her legs wrapped around his hips, urging him closer to her. Patrick let his hand wander down her body to pull her nightdress up and touch her bare skin beneath it. Everything about her body was so very soft and warm but decidedly not delicate. Her arms had woven around him, clinging to him with a strength that made his head spin.

He tore his lips from hers to kiss down her pale neck. "I love to kiss every part of you, my Shelagh. Every beautiful bit of you. I want to taste every inch of your skin," he murmured against her.

Shelagh was panting with want as her trembling fingers tried to unbutton his pajamas. In the end, she only got half the buttons and then just pulled it over his head. Patrick took the pause to pull her nightdress off as well. She was left only in her knickers and he only in his pajama trousers. Though not for long. Shelagh did not give him the chance to admire her nearly-naked body before pushing his pants off his hips for him to kick off over the side of the bed.

Patrick has told her he wanted to taste every inch of her skin, so he set to work. Down her neck and collarbone, dipping his tongue into the elegant hollows there. Shelagh whispered his name so desperately as he continued his journey to her pert breasts, swirling his tongue over each one before suckling at her hardened nipples. He was rewarded by a high-pitched sigh, a sound with which he was quite familiar by now. But he moved onward, tracing his tongue down her belly and along the line of her knickers. He removed them from her and settled between her open thighs. Her pale brown curls were glistening with her wetness and Patrick lapped up every drop with his eager tongue. Shelagh buried her hands in his thick hair, guiding his mouth to where she needed him. Her thighs tightened around his ears as she gasped rather loudly. His lips had closed around her throbbing center and sent her careening to her climax.

As her body relaxed, Shelagh blinked her eyes open to see Patrick's face looking up at her. His mouth was glossy from his attentions to her, a sight which still made her blush. "Goodness," she breathed.

"I told you, I'm happy to put my lips elsewhere besides your hands."

"But I do insist that you don't put your lips there unless we are in this bed."

His eyes sparkled in a rather naughty way. "Oh I don't know, I think there's other places we might like to give it a try."

"Patrick!" she scolded with a laugh.

He climbed his way back up the bed till their faces were level. "Yes, Shelagh?"

"Would you kiss me again, please?"

"Of course."

But before he could do so, she stopped him. "And could you also make love to me now?"

Patrick grinned and only hummed as he kissed her deeply, making absolutely certain she tasted herself on his tongue. As he did so, he lined himself up at her entrance and pushed inside slowly.

Shelagh turned her head away to gasp, "Not delicately!"

His hips snapped hard against hers, filling her with one mighty thrust. She cried out but he silenced her with another searing kiss. She gripped his arms and adjusted her hips, letting him know that she was ready.

Patrick did not make love to his wife with with gentle delicacy. For she has asked him not to. He pounded into her with reckless abandon, and from the muffled moans against his lips, he could tell she was enjoying herself. And before he knew it, he was clenched in the pulsating vice grip of her orgasm. He chased his own completion and a moment later, spilled himself inside her before stilling.

The pair of them were panting with exhaustion, their hearts racing and their bodies slick with perspiration from their exertion.

"Oh Patrick, that was wonderful," Shelagh sighed.

He rolled off her and pulled her into his arms. "You're wonderful," he told her. His voice was rather hoarse as he still struggled to catch his breath. "And I'm so glad you interrupted my reading."

"Well, that study was inconclusive."

"Yes, but this one certainly wasn't."

"What do you mean?"

He chuckled lightly. "I think we've proven without a shadow of a doubt that my displays of affection are not limited to a kiss on your hand."

"No," she agreed, "But a kiss on the hand that leads to kisses elsewhere is guaranteed to bring immense pleasure to those involved."

Patrick kissed her hair and grinned. "Quite right."

Shelagh knew they'd have to clean up a bit and turn out the light before they could go to sleep. And as they often did after making love, she and Patrick would share a cigarette as they got ready for bed again. But for now, she just wanted to snuggle against his bare chest and feel those healing hands of his trace up and down her spine. And she suddenly wondered what might happen if she kissed Patrick's hand.

Well, that would be a study for another evening.


End file.
